Sick Day
by BooBaLooPants
Summary: Sulley/Randall one shot. Randall is sick, Sulley tries to go to work. Includes lasagna! Short domestic situation.


Sulley/Randall

AU

A domestic situation.

In which Randall is sick and Sulley tries to go to work. Also includes lasagna.

In part, this is really a present for mentalguru, who has inspired me to kind of fall in love with this pairing (that's an understatement by the way). It's also something I've wanted to try for a while, since I really do have a thing for Sulley looking after Randall for whatever reason. You should check out everything mentalguru, and also her tumblr (blue-with-purple-polka-dots), where she does gorgeous little one-shots to go with my stupid doodles.

I say AU here, and I'm not going into details of the AU because honestly, I have no details. Just...any excuse for this situation to arise, you know? ;)

Reviews are always appreciated!

8888

8888

**Sick Day**

8888

8888

8888

"Randall, no-one's gonna bat an eyelid at you for missing one lousy day at work."

Sulley adjusted his tie in the mirror. He caught the lump of blankets moving on the couch, which passed for Randall's reflection in it, and smiled. "and in case you forgot, I'm the CEO."

"How could I _ever _forget," Randall's voice was muffled and whining under the blankets.

He sneezed, then poked his head out from under them. His expression was irritated but mostly disorientated. It took him a moment to set a glare on Sulley's back.

"There's nothing_ wrong _with me, Sullivan," he said, and then sneezed.

"Mm-hm," Sulley snorted in the mirror.

"I'm _fine_... and I would've been fine yesterday, if you would just let me show you-"

"Randall, you threw up all over Mikey's car seats on the way home. Twice."

"That...that was intentional."

Sulley raised a brow. "oh?"

"He's been giving me the evil eye all week, and you know it."

Sulley glanced skeptically at him, but wasn't sure how far he could argue against that.

Ever since the moment Sulley had confided to Mike that Randall was moving in, a permanent glower of suspicion had been placed over Mike's face whenever he looked at Randall, or whenever he was generally just in the same vicinity as the other monster. It was like he suspected Randall had plans to murder Sulley in the night, or maybe even broad daylight, because he was just _that evil_.

Randall had had some fun with it for a while, even suggesting he go to work one day without Sulley, blood on his hands, and inform Mike the terrible deed was done. Sulley had told him not to be mean, but Randall had scowled and told him that Mike shouldn't expect him to be so mean then.

Since then they hadn't spoken about it, and Sulley just wasn't sure how to placate either of them anymore. Besides a few nights of accidental blind drunkenness, Randall and Mike just didn't get along.

Randall rolled his eyes and sighed; "I'll pay for those car seats," he said tentatively.

Sulley's face relaxed into a smile. Maybe even Randall was getting sick of hating Mike.

"But he can go to hell if he thinks I'll thank him for the trip home,"

Sulley grimaced. Or maybe not.

He walked over to Randall. "It's fine. I already sorted all that out last night."

"You did? Where was I?"

Sulley looked at the ceiling, trying to remember. "er, throwing up in the kitchen sink, I believe. The bathroom was much too far away."

Randall retracted on the couch, looking disgusted with himself.

"Hey, don't worry," Sulley knelt down, so that he was on the other monster's level. "Mikey didn't take it too bad. And Celia was just concerned about you."

Randall's lip curled and he folded him arms, looking away. "Like I care what either of them think, Sullivan."

Sulley shrugged. "I'm just telling you it's no big deal. Just like it's no big deal that you're taking a sick day. These things happen."

"You're _forcing _me to take a sick day," Randall corrected, fixing his glare back on Sulley. The effect was ruined when he sneezed again.

Sulley smiled faintly and went into the kitchen.

"Just get lots of sleep, and don't leave that couch. Oh, and another thing, make sure that if you have to-" Sulley turned round. "Randall! What are you doing?!"

The smaller monster was teetering close to him, doing a bad imitation of keeping his balance. His eyes were set on the fridge. "I'm hungry," he said, "and I need food for work-"

"Randall, _no_," Sulley moved in front of him, blocking his path. "You're staying home and that's that."

"Why can't you just let me-"

"If you're hungry I'll fix you something up right now," Sulley interrupted, and then scooped Randall easily up and over his shoulder.

"Hey..._stop_!" Randall wriggled feebly. "it's not fair...you're so big and...hairy."

Sulley laughed, placing him gently back down on the couch.

"I hate you," Randall muttered, looking at the ground.

"I know. But you'll get over it."

Randall didn't protest as Sulley pulled the blanket back over him, then leaned in to give him a kiss on the nose.

"I hope you get all my germs," Randall said, and pulled the blanket back over his head. "_all_ of them."

"You're so charming," Sulley said.

He set about making Randall some sort of breakfast before he _really_ did have to go. He was already five minutes late.

"If you need anything you have my work number. I'll probably be in the office most of the day. You know how hectic things get with paperwork on a Friday. Plus we've got some students coming in for work experience in the morning…"

"Your guilt trips aren't gonna work, Sullivan," Randall growled from under the blanket.

"What? oh-I wasn't trying to do that, Randall. Don't be silly."

"I'm not being silly," Randall slowly reemerged and pulled a face. "Hey, can I have a coffee?"

"No," Sulley said automatically. "you are being silly."

Randall huffed, and then groaned. "work experience students? But that does make me feel bad."

"Yeah, you do look it," Sulley smirked, and then offered him a plate of toast.

Sulley wasn't actually joking; Randall did look terrible. His lilac scales had dulled to a greyish kind of colour, and his eyes were bleary and only half open.

Still, that was nothing compared to last night, when his scales had been alternating between all sorts of weird colours and textures. Sulley had seen it happen before, in more...intimate moments. And then just randomly when he was dreaming (Sulley likened it to sleep walking or talking, maybe), but it had been very extreme last night with the fever.

At one point Sulley had even considered calling a doctor. It wasn't until early morning when Randall was already up and chastising Sulley (hitting him with a pillow) for almost crushing him in his sleep, that Sulley decided he wasn't _that _sick.

"_I mean_ I feel bad about leaving your furball ass to do everything," Randall sniped, then took a bite out of the toast, begrudgingly. "I still hate you, though."

"Well some things never change, do they?"

Randall muttered an unintelligible reply, then rested his head on a cushion, blinking up at Sulley sleepily.

"Sorry I was sick everywhere."

Sulley's heart warmed with the way he said it. It was such a rare thing. He reached out a paw, stroking Randall's fronds gently.

"Don't apologise. It happens."

"Right," Randall looked sideways, apparently not so convinced by the reassurance.

It suddenly occurred to Sulley that even it Randall didn't' care what the likes of Celia and Mike thought, it was very different with himself.

"I remember when Mikey was sick," Sulley recalled. "Projectile vomit everywhere. I was cleaning the walls for weeks."

Randall grimaced, but his mouth curved up. "thanks for that mental image."

"You're welcome," Sulley grinned apologetically, his fingers lingered a little longer on Randall's head.

He started to stand up, but Randall was already reaching out, putting a hand on Sulley's chest. He gripped his fur (and then tie) and pulled him as close as he could manage.

For a second Sulley was falling for it; leaning in and blissfully familiar with the lusty look in the other monster's eyes.

"No-no-no," he clamped a paw firmly on Randall's arm, pulling him back. "No, Randall...not when you're like this."

"Urgh. You're no fun." Randall sniffed, "why not?"

"Number one, you're sick, and number two-"

Randall sneezed again, then groaned and held his head.

"You're sick," Sulley finished, with a stern expression.

"You already said that."

"Yeah, well. It deserves repeating," Sulley stood up, readjusting the tie that Randall had done a good job of disheveling. "I better be off now. "

Randall looked disappointed. "It was worth a shot."

"Promise me you'll stay right here?"

"Mm, sure. Of course," Randall yawned and curled around the blanket a bit. "miss you already, honey bun," he said sarcastically.

"You too, schmoopy face."

8

Sulley left the apartment smirking and shaking his head. The whole Mike and Celia rip-take was getting a bit much now. He'd come so close to doing it right in front of them, and judging by Randall's oft-crafty grin, that was certainly his desire.

He looked over his shoulder as he walked along the street; the odd image of Randall staggering behind him wrapped in a blanket popped into his paranoid mind. But it was okay, no crazy feverish monster to be seen.

Sulley doubted that Randall would attempt any journey longer than a trip to the bathroom in his current state, but then again it _was_ Randall. Sulley looked once more over his shoulder, before crossing the road, and then the apartment was out of sight.

Out of sight, out of mind, Sulley thought.

Except not really.

88

At first Randall had thought that making dinner was entirely plausible. He did it pretty much every day anyway, only of his own insistence of course.

It wasn't that Sulley was a bad cook (he was actually pretty good, and he made a mean home-made lasagna, not that Randall would ever admit), it was just that Sulley seemed to really love Randall's cooking, and Randall really kind of loved that he did. Secretly, of course.

So he'd stepped off the couch, undeterred and mostly ignoring the ache in his limbs, and the way the world slid out of focus for a moment, and made the short (but seemingly aging) journey to the kitchen.

"That was easy," he said proudly, and gripped the cooker to keep his balance, just for a second.

It'd be _fine_.

Of course, in the back of his rather fuzzy mind there was a disapproving voice telling him to go back to bed (Sullivan's voice, obviously), but Randall was good at ignoring that. He told it to shut up a couple of times too; first as he almost tripped over his feet when pulling a cook book from a shelf that seemed way higher than usual, then again when the words on the recipes didn't seem to want to settle on the pages.

Randall dropped a spoon on the floor, and as he bent to pick it back up he found it far easier to just stay level with the ground for a minute. Just a minute. He'd be fine after a minute…

Yeah, just fine.

88

Sulley was already anxious as he stepped through the apartment door, dropping bag and keys thoughtlessly on the nearby table. His stomach flipped when he saw the empty couch.

"Randall? Where are you?"

He just had a feeling, because he knew Randall way too well now.

Even so, he was still shocked when he found the other monster flat out on his stomach in the kitchen, next to an oven which was smoking something that had burned at least an hour ago.

"Randall!" Sulley knelt next to him, "what are you doing?!"

"Oh…uh, hey, Sullivan," Randall blinked up. "I was just taking a little break. Must've fallen asleep for a bit."

"on the floor?!" Sulley placed a paw on his head, where his skin was far too hot. "you're burning," he remembered the cooker and switched it off, "not to mention…whatever you've got in the oven."

"Lasagna," Randall supplied. He batted Sulley's paw away with some irritation. "Geez, Sullivan, don't get so worked up..."

"You're still sick!" Sulley spoke in a fierce tone he didn't often use (or didn't really need to, come to that), but it always made Randall pay attention because of it.

The smaller monster blinked again, and then looked sheepishly to the side, sighing softly.

He didn't say anything, but it was apology enough for Sulley. And besides, he was rubbish at staying angry with the lizard monster.

He picked Randall carefully up in his arms, and Randall groaned but didn't protest otherwise.

"You're still sick," Sulley repeated, far more gently than before, and then he attempted a weak smile. "please, just do me a favour and don't do this again?"

Randall hummed in some sort of contemplation, his head rested easily on Sulley's shoulder. "I don't know. Sleeping on the kitchen floor felt kinda nice on my stomach, you know?"

"_Randall_," Sulley spoke through his teeth, but found it impossible not to contain his smile. "you know what I mean."

He placed the monster back on the couch, and Randall rubbed his eyes, as if he was just waking up properly. It seemed like he really was, because a flash of mortification appeared in his eyes when he looked at Sulley again.

"The lasagna must be ruined," he said sulkily.

Sulley laughed. "I think so."

He sat down on the couch, close to Randall.

"You know I can survive a few nights without your cooking, right?" He moved a paw lightly over Randall's back, and the motion seemed to lull him. "though I do appreciate the thought. A lot."

"It wasn't just for you, Sullivan," Randall murmured, and closed his eyes. "I like lasagna."

"Mm, hmm," Sulley nodded.

"Honestly, Sullivan…you think everything revolves around you. Even lasagna."

Sulley grinned, "yeah, _especially_ lasagna," he traced his finger further along his back, watching the way it quivered, just a little.

Randall opened his eyes, still half asleep. "are you suddenly in the mood, Sullivan? I thought you didn't want all my germs."

"I don't," Sulley realised he was getting away with himself, and he retracted his hand quickly, "even when you're this adorable."

Randall pulled a face, apparently having enough presence of mind to recognise when he felt insulted. "I will have to kill you if you say that word again, Sullivan."

"Ah, I meant...irresistible. That's what I meant."

"A little better," Randall huffed, but still curved his tail around Sulley's arm.

It was a gesture that Sulley had come to understand as "you can stay with me if you like. Or not. I don't mind, really I don't. No, really. But if you go we won't be communicating tonight on _any _level."

Sulley grinned weakly, and thought maybe he'd risk the germs, just this time.

He leaned down, curving his paws around slender limbs.

He still needed to thank Randall for his brave attempt at dinner, after all.

888

888

~END


End file.
